Page 37 of Filthy Lies

“548804,” I stated.

Temper glared at me but stopped angling her phone down. She dialed a number from memory then, to the phone, and not to me, drawled, “In our Brothers we trust.”

10

TEXT CHAT

PAST

Star:What do you know of Prince Edward of Midlothian?

Conor:Is this a random question, or does it have a point? I’m trying to hack into that bank account you sent me yesterday.

Star:Can’t you multitask?

Conor:For a standard bank account, it has a lot of protection. Especially considering it’s not based in Switzerland.

Star:Ah, the Swiss. I love their intricate blending of abiding and ignoring laws to do whatever the fuck they want for whoever’s willing to pay a high enough price.

Conor:And people think they’re neutral.

Star:That’s the best part. LOL. Hiding in plain sight.

Conor:I have to focus.

Star:Focus later. I think I have a way of accessing the accounts I need, just bear with me. So answer my question.

Conor:God, you’re bossy.

Star:You’re Irish. You’re used to bossy women. It’s hardwired into your DNA that you react when a woman bosses you around.

Conor:Oh, I react. I just can’t react how I want to through a computer screen.

Star:That again?

Conor:Lol.

Star:You’re proving it’s true that men are obsessed with sex.

Conor:I AM a man.

Star:I know. You can’t help it. Still. Try.

Conor:LMAO. You’re the one who lets me think about you in the tub. I think I’m controlling myself very well for a man whose BFF is his right hand.

Star:Why not your left? I thought you were a southpaw.

Conor:I’m ambidextrous.

Star:Really?

Conor:Yes, another secret only you know.

Star:Why is it a secret?

Conor:I’m a man of mystery.

Star:You’re an odd duck is what you are. Not sure if you’re a man of mystery…

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